


But Keep Your Enemies Closer

by Seonaid



Series: But Keep Your Enemies Closer [2]
Category: Marco Polo (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seonaid/pseuds/Seonaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco couldn't help but watch the dark wisps of hair that had escaped Prince Jingim’s bun float around his face as he paced impatiently back and forth. (This is Part One of the series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Keep Your Enemies Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the confusion of the order of these chapters in the site auto "next" links. Once I had posted, then reposted in the correct order, I couldn't change them around. This is chapter ONE, The Night is Ripe with Secrets is TWO, Silk Pillows tell no Tales is THREE, and Chased By Dragons is FOUR.
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've ever written. Eventually, a show comes along that inspires enough to take the plunge! Thanks to my wonderful Beta Aislinn.

Marco couldn’t help but watch the dark wisps of hair that had escaped Prince Jingim’s bun float around his face as he paced impatiently back and forth. He wondered what Jingim's hair would smell like. He imagined what it would be like to gently touch the tip of his tongue to the corner of Jingim's full mouth where it was pressed tightly together in annoyance. Jingim's lips always looked like moist pillows, rarely parted in a smile. Now, Jingim's dark eyes were flashing and dangerous.

Marco and Jingim's half-brother Byamba had just returned from a scouting and spying trip to Kochkor. What they had learned had been revealed only to the Khan moments before the Prince had stalked into the room, too late to hear the details, raging and pacing at the thought of conspiracies against his father, the Great Khan of Mongolia. The Khan had growled at hearing the news, bid silence from Marco and Byamba, and taken his leave of the hall, leaving his favourite son with Marco and Byamba. The Prince's obvious distrust and jealousy of Marco made all of their brief conversations tense and with an underlying threat of harm. On more than one occasion, the Prince had threatened to remove one or another of Marco's body parts. Marco's merchant family had left him with the Great Khan as a “gift”. The Khan, in turn, had given Marco to his son as a slave. However, as time passed, Marco had been befriended by the Khan, and in that trust, became a confident. The closer Marco got to the Khan, the more Jingim's jealousy and distrust grew.

“Are you LISTENING to me Latin??,” raged Jingim, tearing Marco out of his thoughts with a lurch of his stomach. A sudden flush rushed over Marco's neck with a fleeting thought that Jingim could read his mind.

“Yes, Prince,” muttered Marco as his mind scrambled to catch up with the conversation. “We did not learn any further information,” he lied, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt.  
His clothes were dusty and dishevelled from a long fast ride across the steppes from Kochkor, and Marco’s nervous shifting left dirty footprints on the shiny tiled floor of the palace hall.

“If you are hiding any information about Kochkor from me, Latin, I will tear it from your hide!”

“No, no Prince, I assure you, there is nothing more to reveal. I beg of you to let me take my leave,” his thick Italian accent made heavier by confusion and fluster. Marco crossed his arms over his waist and started a shallow bow, hoping to escape before he made a total fool of himself, but Jingim stopped him with a swipe of his palm in the air.

“Latin, I will receive you in my quarters later. We have much more to discuss. Now, go.” Jingim swept out of the room with a swirl of his golden robes, leaving Marco standing alone with the silent guards that were still as statues in shadows against the walls, his mouth open in an un-uttered protest. Marco stumbled out of the palace into the street and down the narrow alley towards his small house, wondering if he would still be breathing come morning. What on Earth could compel the Prince to summon him to his private quarters? Marco feared the Prince somehow did know of the information they had given to the Khan. The Khan bid them to silence, saying only to not bother the Prince or any others with it. Marco wondered if his head would leave his shoulders tonight. And yet, there still harboured a tiny thrill in the back of Marco's mind to be alone with the Prince. His body betrayed him every time he was in the Prince's presence. The young man, though fierce and angry more often than not, was of an uncommon beauty. Tall and stoic, he sat by the Khan's side during palace functions, very still with his back straight, legs apart with a long horse hair sash falling between his knees over the folds of his full length robe. His role of heir was heavy upon his shoulders, and the worry created a tightness to his expression. Each time Marco was in a room with him, he could not look away, but studied the features and form of the man. It occurred to Marco that it was curious, indeed, to be so taken by one that caused so much fear in him at the same time.  
And now, tonight, he had been summoned to the Prince's private quarters. Marco's months at the palace had allowed him to know the layout well, that the Prince and his wives all kept rooms in the East wing. What if the Prince's wives saw him there? The whole palace would know he was there in no time at all. What was the meaning of it? Marco washed the road dirt off his face and body and tried to relax for a few hours, knowing there would be no sleep for him that night.

Much later, under a quarter moon barely lighting the indigo coloured night sky, Marco slipped back into the palace, through the darkened passageways toward the Crown Prince's rooms, expecting at any moment to be stopped by a guard's sword in his back. But, all too soon, he stood before the large carved door and the Prince's personal guards. They seemed to be expecting him, and before he could utter a word, the doors opened and Marco slipped quietly through, the doors closing softly but firmly behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lamp lit interior, Marco slowly looked around. A slight breeze stirred the silk hangings of a huge ornate carved bed. The walls were hung with rich, detailed tapestries of hunt and battle scenes, the stone floor deeply carpeted with colourful rugs. Around the walls a few small carved tables stood with open-flame brass lamps on them. Silently, Prince Jingim stepped out of the shadows and moved across the space to where Marco stood frozen.

“Hello Latin,” Jingim murmured softly. Marco's eyes slid one way then the other looking for a trap or witnesses to his pending doom. “What's the matter, Latin? Are you afraid of me? Do you think my sword longs for your heart?” Jingim stretched his arm toward Marco, slowly, as if he was trying to tame a wild pony. His palm gently touched Marco's cheek, then slipped up to caress his thick curly dark hair. Marco's stomach lurched, and a sharp streak of heat raced through his loins. Marco swallowed loudly, throat dry, as he quickly licked his lips.

“Prince Jingim, what is it you wish from me? I... I don't actually know any more, that is to say I don't....” Marco looked up, then down, then away feeling foolish like a shy little girl. Jingim took one step closer and suddenly their bodies were nearly touching from the shoulders to the knees. Jingim slid his hand around behind Marco's neck and pulled him slightly forward so their lips were mere inches apart. Marco could feel the Prince's breath on his face. Before Marco could think what to do next, Jingim's lips were touching his, softly sucking his top lip in, his tongue slipping between Marco's lips. All brain power left Marco, as he opened his mouth to Jingim's kiss and relaxed his neck back into Jingim's hand. The kiss was deep, wet, and thorough, and lasted long enough to take Marco's breath away. There was a faint tang of alcohol on Jingim's tongue. He could feel the heat of the Prince's body through his rough homespun tunic and trousers. The soft silk of Jingim's robe parted as he shifted to reveal that he was naked underneath. With a shock Marco realized his hands had slid up Jingim's waist and around his back, crushing the delicate silk in his sweaty fingers. He moved his hands over Jingim's back, feeling the slim hard body rippled with strength. Jingim was slowly pushing Marco back towards the bed, and with a start, Marco felt his knees brush the edge of the opulent bedcovering. The world swung up and then Marco was laying on the bed with Jingim crawling up over his body to straddle his hips, a sly smile played on his wet lips. Marco's hands slid down to cup the muscles of Jingim's ass, taut from years of riding before he could walk. Marco clutched them tightly as if to steady himself from a rocking boat. Indeed, Marco felt like he was rocking, dizzy with heat, desire and fear all at the same time. But the Prince just laughed softly, no malice in his face at all.

“Oh, Latin. If you could see your face right now, all round eyed like a pony on the steppes, ready to flee at the first opportunity. Do you want to flee? Are you afraid I will eat you? Or is that what you are hoping for?” Jingim's tone was gently teasing, with a touch of heat beneath the surface. Marco's cock twitched at the thought and he was immediately mortified as he knew the Prince could feel him through the thin fabric. “Ah. So that IS what you want. Would you like to suck my cock, Latin? Would you like me to suck yours?”  
Marco's resolve shifted to a reckless place of need. He thought to himself If I'm going to die sometime tonight, it will have to be a hard fall. He reached up and pulled the hair fastener from Jingim's head and watched with wonder as a heavy cascade of shiny black hair unwound and spilled down Jingim's back and shoulders. Jingim leaned down to kiss and bite at Marco's neck, while his hair curtained Marco's face with the faint woodsy scent of juniper incense. Marco slid his fingers up through Jingim's hair and grasped a handful tightly in his palm. This caused Jingim to bite one of Marco's nipples through his tunic a bit too hard. Marco's hips involuntarily rocked up into Jingim with a sharp intake of breath as Jingim laughed, throwing his head back. “You are much more interesting than I thought you would be...”

“Now, Latin, I think it is time for these bothersome clothes to go away,” he said as he expertly removed all of Marco's clothes. The Prince's robe was fully open to reveal his naked body, smooth muscles and scented skin. Marco's hands tentatively touched Jingim's chest, softly rubbing his nipples to hardness with little circles, down through his sparsely haired abdomen to stop just short of his erect cock, rubbing the tender skin there with the back of his curved fingers. Jingim closed his eyes as he hummed quietly, enjoying the exploration of his body by Marco. Jingim's hands slowly worked their way down Marco's chest and swirled in the dark curly hair covering Marco's abdomen. With his thumb and forefinger, he slipped the foreskin down from the tip of Marco's cock, sliding his thumb over and around the tiny slit. A slightly desperate sound escaped from Marco's throat as his vision blurred.  
Jingim leaned down and without warning, took Marco's fiercely rigid cock into his mouth, sucking it down rapidly. Marco's hips jumped in shock and a tiny yelp escaped his mouth. Jingim pulled back on Marco's cock, lips and tongue working the head. Jingim's smile was cheeky, teasing.. “Oh, I see, you liked that, did you? You like the unexpected.”  
Marco moaned a little and leaned closer to wrap one hand fully around the Prince's cock while cupping his balls with the other. “Yes, my Prince. I like this, too.” Jingim's mouth was on Marco's in a flash, the kiss deep and passionate, tongues swirling together, lips sliding around in circles, saliva wetting their cheeks and chins. Marco's mouth moved over the smooth golden skin of Jingim's face and neck, silky beneath Marco's lips, spice scented, and masculine. Jingim pressed his cock against Marco's, sliding them together, the hardness and heat making them both gasp through the kiss. In a flash, Jingim grasped Marco's shoulders and flipped him onto his stomach. Marco reached his hands up to grasp the silk pillows as he tried to catch his breath. Jingim's hands were all over him, up and down his back, over his buttocks, between his thighs, hot and searching. Jingim kissed Marco's back starting at his neck and working his way down the spine with a trail of wet kisses and little nips until he reached the top of the crack of Marco's ass. Marco let out a surprised little sound when he felt Jingim's tongue flick out to slip between his ass cheeks. Without thinking Marco slid his legs apart, giving Jingim better access. Jingim pried Marco's ass apart with a palm on each cheek, opening him up to the cool night air. Then Marco felt Jingim's tongue at the most private spot of his body. Marco's heart was racing with desire and a flickering of fear. He had never been with a man before, even if he had secretly wondered about it. No one had ever touched him so intimately before. Jingim's tongue continued to circle the puckered skin, and finally slipped just inside. A strange sensation, wet and warm but not as warm as his body. Marco wanted to arch his back and push up into the Prince's mouth, but splayed out like he was, the angle was not quite right. As Marco was shuddering and trying to breathe, he felt Jingim's finger start to stroke his hole. Jingim must have put some oil on it, because it slid around easily and just as Marco began to be afraid that the Prince would slip his finger inside, he did. Jingim pushed in deeper and Marco gasped out loud as his whole body shivered and he squeezed his buttocks together a little in surprised embarrassment. But Jingim's hand was strong and his fingers unrelenting. They found Marco's most sensitive spot and pressed it with a fingertip. “Oh, oh, oh, Prince... what is this you do to me? I can barely stand it,” Marco moaned softly against the pillow.  
“We have only just begun,” Jingim murmured, breath warm against his buttocks. A second finger slipped in moving in and out for a time, then a moment later, a third. Marco felt the stretch, uncomfortable at first, then as he relaxed into it, the feeling warmed the desire within him. His cock was rock hard against the bed covering, Marco's body was shivering and shaking. Then, again without warning, Jingim's fingers were gone and Marco felt a pillow being slipped under his hips raising his ass up a few inches. Marco's cheeks burned with embarrassment at this undignified pose. But, not a moment later, he felt the Prince's cock slide up and down the crevice of his ass and nudge against the hole, then slip in just past the head and stop there. Marco tensed, fearing it would hurt, but as his body relaxed, it felt delicious. Marco arched his back and pushed up against Jingim, making his cock plunge deeper. Jingim gasped out loud and grabbed Marco's hair as he thrust into him as deep as he could go. They began to rock together in the age old rhythm, their bodies slapping against each other, sweat beginning to trickle down from Jingim's chest onto Marco's back. Marco realized he was actually biting the pillow, a wad of soggy silk in his mouth as he felt the delicious full slide of Jingim's cock deep inside him now, then shallow then deep again. Just when he thought he couldn't stand it anymore, Marco felt Jingim slide out of him and in one swift movement flip him onto his back. Then, without preamble, he plunged into Marco again, as Marco's legs swung wildly in the air for a moment before settling around Jingim's waist. Jingim moved down into a deep biting kiss while rocking into him, hands tangled in Marco's curly hair, sweat dripping onto Marco's face. As Jingim got closer to release, his thrusts got longer, harder, deeper, and Marco let out a frantic whimper of breath with each slap of Jingim's body against his. Then, Jingim threw his head back with “ah... ah... ah...uuuuhhh...” and a long audible sigh. Marco's body did not want the thrusting to stop and his hips continued to jump against the Prince's body, Marco's brain not quite catching up. Jingim slowly slipped out of him and leaned down to suck Marco's erection deeply into his mouth, tongue swirling, and swallowing, licking and sucking, nose buried in pubic hair. Marco grabbed at Jingim's hair, his back arched and with a long low moan, released into Jingim's throat.  
They lay like that, panting with Jingim's face on Marco's sweaty stomach, as the velvety night air cooled their skin and slowed their breathing.  
Marco lay, his body tingled with bliss, the Prince draped over him, his left hand idly stroking Jingim's smooth hair, his right fingertips trailing lightly across Jingim's upper arm and shoulder, gazing up at the dragons carved into the wooden ceiling, or were they lions? The moon was lower in the sky now, throwing a faint glow across the carpeted floor. Most of the lamps had gone out. The night was full and ripe with secrets.  
Marco wondered how he had come to be in this place when only hours before, he worried that his head might be rolling quite independent of his body at the request of the Prince. And what of Jingim's wives? Were their quarters within hearing distance? Marco's face flushed hot at the thought. Did they know of their husband's predilection for men? Did he have concubines like the Khan? Marco had never heard the Prince mention any. Was he now like a concubine or just a throw-away diversion? What would the Khan think if he knew what his heir to the throne was doing in his bed chamber late at night? Would he order them both killed or just chuckle with his gravelly voice and claim Jingim to be “just like his father”? With Marco's thoughts getting darker by the minute, a slight shivering started again in his limbs. At length, Jingim lifted his head and gazed at Marco with his perfect almond shaped black eyes... “Latin. You're thinking so loud it is hurting my ears. Stop it. Perhaps it is time for you to return to your quarters.”  
Marco shifted from beneath the Prince with some regret and reached for his clothes on the floor, wondering once again if the Prince could read his mind.  
“Prince, do you wish me to return another time?” Marco failed at hiding the hopeful note in his voice.  
“Well, Latin. I feel we have only just begun to know one another. Perhaps there are many more nights for us. You are my slave, after all. My father's gift.” Jingim's voice lowered and his face darkened slightly with these last words. A tiny thrill of fear prickled at Marco's insides as he quickly dressed.  
“ I await your request, Prince Jingim,” Marco responded formally. Jingim just gazed at him, his face seeming to soften once again. “Goodnight Marco,” he whispered.


End file.
